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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24535081">Relax</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/missflowerthief/pseuds/missflowerthief'>missflowerthief</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragalia Lost (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Church Politics, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Frottage, Interrupted during sex, Non-Penetrative Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:20:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24535081</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/missflowerthief/pseuds/missflowerthief</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Unable to ascertain her worth, Alex has been contemplating her position as the protector of the youngest Grand Paladyn in history. </p><p>Elisanne wants her to relax, only to accidentally leave her even more "tense" than before.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alex/Elisanne (Dragalia Lost)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Relax</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>More than anyone else, Alex knows how easy it is to take a life. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Some deaths take minutes. Others, hours of struggle lost amid despair and what is believed to be hope. Some deaths can last for days, and months, and stretch further into years where the concept of finality becomes a second skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some deaths are purely emotional.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>But the kind of deaths Alex fears most… nay, the kind of murders—for it is a victim’s mercy not to suffer—are the ones that can occur in the careless blink of an eye.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For most people, taking a life is not easy in the moral sense, nor the lawful one, no; but easy in the sense that cutting someone’s throat could take merely a moment. That, if you could force the bile back down your throat and steady your trembling hands, or even if you couldn’t and happened to get lucky, one awful second of pressure on a knife handle was all it took. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A child could do it; and she was the living testament to this statement in its most convoluted form. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s why when Alex watches Elisanne announce public reform plans at each and every town they travel through, she also looks out to the crowd below them, searching for anyone whose eyes betray their bloodlust. For those who are not enraptured, but enraged—enough to climb onto the platform and brandish their fists. Or worse, for those who have emptied themselves and become as cold as the steel they carry, because such a demeanor could be mistaken for casual disinterest, and all they would need is to be underestimated before they struck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it is not only in the mass of citizens where danger hides, but all around them. Any of the Church officials, no matter how high of rank or how peaceful they seemed, could be traitors. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The man who trained Alex to be an assassin had been a priest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A former Grand Paladyn became a vigilante.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Countless others on both sides would rather stuff their pockets or selfishly hold onto power than do what is right, causing the burden to fall upon unsuspecting martyrs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Church, divided in two, does not realize it is separated only by a thin sheet of mirror glass; and that corruption sits upon Ilia’s throne. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind the officials, who stand around Elisanne like a procession of sanctified ghosts, Alex watches their shifting white robes for signs of concealed weaponry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her ears pick up every sound in the immediate vicinity, below the soprano of Elisanne’s rising voice and cries of townspeople who wholeheartedly want to believe in salvation. The crescendo of unwavering sincerity touches their hearts the same way it touched Alex’s, time and time again. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“...Thank you all,” Elisanne concludes, and though she lowers her head, her armor scintillates in the noontime sun like the outspread wings of a dove. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The speech ends the way it always does—with promise and gratitude. She picks up their tangible hopes and adds them to a continuously growing pile that would crush a lesser Paladyn under its weight. Even so, she does not call it a burden, but her duty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it is Alex’s duty to protect </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now is the time for utmost vigilance. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>With the crowd roaring, clothing fabrics flying in the air like banners as they raise their hands, it becomes harder to spot potential enemies. Removing a pillar of the Church at the climax of excitement would undermine their authority all the more. It would be to “show” they couldn’t even keep an oath made just minutes ago; that their strongest member could not protect herself, so how could she possibly provide sanctuary for the common man? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex’s legs are tensed like a bowstring the moment before it fires, her mind clear, her hands ready. Though the day was only warm, sweat dripped along the curves of her furrowed brow. Her heart, trained to beat in slow, steady intervals, was so quiet one would think it were not beating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They would return to the Halidom after this—their final stop on a month-long excursion. Soon any would-be assassins would lose their chance to strike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the attack she expects never comes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following an open forum to allow the townspeoples to voice their concerns, the Bishop concludes the meeting and all begin to disperse into their everyday lives. The Church officials ready their carriages to return to the Capital, while the townspeople get back to tending their businesses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one looks outwardly suspicious at the moment. With trepidation guiding her steps, Alex approaches the podium cautiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Elisanne, relieved that her address went well, meets her halfway to take her by the hand. The initial contact causes her hand to go rigid and her feet to falter, but the way Elly smiles… how she smiles so sweetly, helps put Alex at ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulled along by her left arm, the sword on her right still unsheathed, Alex watches her back as she follows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elisanne called it “home”; but Alex had learned better than to confuse the location where one lives with the place where one belongs. It was never the geography that mattered, not castle or orphanage walls themselves, but the people inside them that gave them meaning. It is when she is with Elly, her greatest friend, her fondest inspiration, and her deepest love—in the spaces between her fingers where Alex’s fit perfectly—that she is there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had sworn off killing, but she would be her blade.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The Church procession brings them just outside The Mistholt, and they cover the last stretch on horseback. Even after splitting off from the larger group and traveling on the narrow pathway through the forest, they do not encounter assailants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly, the return is uneventful as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Watchmen greet them at the gates, their identities are verified, and their friends welcome them back with bright laughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s so peaceful that it feels almost unnatural, as if tragedy would take advantage of their lowered guard and creep in to remind them of due attention. The entire trip, not a single assassin or group of bandits—not even a petty thief—had targeted them. Alex had no idea what to do with her restless energy if not use it to oppose a threat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She does end up body checking Luca when he tries to hug Elly (it’s his fault for jumping), but the feeling doesn’t abate. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>No, it’s only amplified by the crowd surging to welcome them back, asking curiously about their journey. Though she feels their wonderful intentions, from those that worried to those that praise, the amount of attention makes her shift nervously on her heels. She just isn’t used to talking with so many… adult people.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the undulating proximity becomes too much to handle, she convinces herself that Elly would not come to harm here and excuses herself with the minimum amount of politeness required.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally able to breath, she doesn’t notice Elisanne turn to her as she slinks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room she ends up returning to is not the one she was assigned, but the one next to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slotting her key in and pushing open the door, Alex’s first action upon stepping in is to respectfully address the pink rabbit plush sitting against the bed frame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Matilda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome back Alex” Matilda replies, though it’s just her speaking in a higher pitch. Aside from Elly’s influence, it’s a habit she picked up from playing with the children at the orphanage. She had mastered six unique voices for them so far. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to take a shower.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>She wasn’t sure how to reply to herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, have... fun?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matilda’s round eyes glint in the lamp light, perhaps in laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex turns away embarrassed, and begins to shuck off her boots layered with armor, her carapace-like bodice, the deceivingly sturdy leather knee guards—everything but the white hood, which she places carefully in the hamper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cool water plummets against her heated skin like rain after a drought, washing away old sweat down lines of taut muscle and softened edges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Belatedly, the thought that Elisanne is safe here comes to rest in her mind. They have reliable allies. Though this fortress comes under siege often, it had never fallen, and that was because the people had the conviction to fight for their freedom, for justice, for their vision of a happy world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet her emotions turn in her stomach. She’s happy that they’re here where Elisanne can finally relax, but somehow an ugly feeling latches itself to her chest. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>She recognizes it instantly; the feeling called helplessness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps because she had done nothing for the entirety of the last month. It was Elisanne who had set relief throughout the municipality, and all Alex had done was follow. The praise and hopeful gazes they’d been met with at the foyer were things she didn’t deserve, for she hadn’t truly protected anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How much was she worth?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns the knob, shivers as she steps out of the tub. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room around her is ornate, befitting of a royal with its porcelain fixtures and pattern-tiled flooring—her own room doesn’t even have a bathroom. In the mirror is a sad, angry woman whose scars faintly pulse from the blood rushing through her veins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, she tears herself away and pulls on her smallclothes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alex,” Elisanne says as she re-enters the bedroom. The name off her lips sounds like a reverie. “Isn’t it nice to finally take a break?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s removing pieces of her armor, and Alex goes to help her undo the straps in the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it’s done, she appears noticeably smaller; though the irony of the observation isn’t lost considering Alex is half a head shorter, and Elisanne could lift her with just one arm. But it’s less of a physical observation and more one of spirit. Elisanne stows away her presentation of a Grand Paladyn: the stern gaze, the benevolent yet judicial stance, and all the endlessly banal formalities she’s forced to adhere to in order to appease higher audiences. Without her armor, Elly is still radiant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex takes a seat next to her on the bed, and lets herself fall back flat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You showered?” Elly asks, though the answer is obvious. It’s the kind of question she asks when she wants to talk, or when she’s trying to get Alex to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She only nods in response, but that’s close enough. Slowly, Elly brushes away her bangs and places a hand over her forehead as if checking for fever. When she’s satisfied with the temperature or Alex’s confused expression, she moves the hand to her palm, and waits for Alex to reciprocate the action by intertwining their fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she does, Elly leans over her and places a kiss on her cheek, then more—an erratic trail that travels down her jaw, her throat, even the collarbone peeking out from her neckline, before returning to end on her anticipating lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even the parting and the small distance between them makes Alex yearn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem stressed,” Elisanne comments. She feels the body beneath hers go fully rigid for a moment. Alex didn’t have a fever, but every part of her that Elisanne touched carried tension, and above all her lover had been even more quiet than usual. Something about her felt sullen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you…” Alex begins, but the next words catch in her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you think I deserve this? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She almost asks. Nevermind that the question doesn’t even make sense out of context, but if she were to explain, the onus would be placed upon Elly for judgement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to be useful to you… I want to protect you,” she says instead. Those are her true and honest feelings, all the ugly parts omitted. But even then she felt the hypocrisy—that she could not protect Elly without her being in danger in the first place.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>‘You help me everyday. I’ve never felt more secure than when I asked you to become my guard,” Elisanne replies, kissing her again. The presence that covers her back is more comforting than any suit of armor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the word “useful”… Elisanne doesn’t like that. There’s something desperate in it, something painful; people were not to be measured in utility. Even if Alex weren’t strong, or if she couldn’t protect her the way she does now, Elisanne would still love her all the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Underneath her, Alex shudders, and answers no more, except with the tightening of her grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Running her other hand through Alex’s damp hair, Elisanne decides to say some words for the both of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re worrying yourself sick,” she continues, her voice like a lullaby despite the harsh truth it contains, “and sooner or later this stress will make you burn out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, she cups Alex’s cheek, devours the red eyes with her own gaze and the somewhat cheeky grin. “I think I know how to get you to relax,” she says, and licks her lips almost like a warning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex gulps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-wait!” she says, feeling a bit warmer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex looks over her shoulder to the bedframe, where Matilda… wait, where was Matilda? She glances around, eventually finding her on the dresser top but pointed away from them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, Ilia (she blushes at even using her name)—this was premeditated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next few minutes are a bit of a blur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex doesn’t know when Elly backs her up against the headboard, or when she places a leg between her own and lifts her onto it, but she does know that all the blood in her body is currently in her face.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elisanne kisses her again, fluttering against the corners of her mouth, a bit of teeth teasing her bottom lip, and her tongue tasting of mint (premeditated); having watched Elly spend the last month reciting holy scripture, Alex had forgotten just how wicked her tongue could be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On her back, two hands roam, sometimes settling against the knots near her shoulder blades and other times sinking toward the curve of her spine. She can’t help the way she arches when Elly rubs the small of her back, how her bare thighs clench around Elly’s leg each time. The small massages and kisses that Elly now places against her sensitive neck make her feel like putty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Low, breathy gasps fill the room, and Elisanne revels in the way Alex clutches wrinkles into her shirt for balance. Feeling a bit mean, she gives no warning as she grinds her leg upward, and listens to a gasp turn into a moan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“E-Elly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her name comes out cutely, almost as a whine. She wants to hear more. Flipping their positions over—Alex yelps at being manhandled—Elisanne cages her head between her arms, and grinds down again. She loves the way Alex twitches around her, the way her hips search for friction each time she moves back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not wanting to give her the satisfaction even though it feels so, so good, Alex muffles her voice against Elly’s chest; though the vibration of her moans just makes Elisanne want to tease her more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You... have too... much clothes on,” Alex complains through her breaths and Elly’s thrusts, both indignant of the fact that she’s barely reciprocated and hyper-aware of the dampness under her shorts. She doesn’t want to finish by herself, and more than that she wants to make Elly come too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elisanne stops moving and lifts herself so Alex can see her smirk. “Help me take it off?” she suggests playfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a lack of finesse, Alex hastily unties the ribbon behind her back and pulls the dress over her head, mussing up her golden hair and making the strands fly wildly. She lets her hand travel up Elly’s smooth, soft abs, feeling them flex momentarily under her touch. Her skin, which is hot but not nearing as burning as Alex’s own, feels heavenly in comparison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so beautiful,” Alex says out loud, her eyes roaming up the gorgeous body before ending on the equally gorgeous face. For some reason that’s what wipes the confident smirk off of it and replaces it with a lovely pink flush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking advantage of the mood, she pulls Elly down to straddle her lap, and greedily takes her lips, nipping a few times as revenge for earlier. They move back against hers just as enthusiastically—both of them know they would probably bruise later, but they don’t care because they’re too preoccupied with confessing love words into each other’s breath. And she’s very glad they are, because otherwise the only noise would be the sound of their wet, squelching kisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of Alex’s restless hands—the one that isn’t holding Elly steady—goes to play with her breasts, which bounce against her every time she half-consciously grinds against her hips. Elly keens when she plays with one of her hardening nipples, and the noise shoots straight to her groin. Enthused, she rolls it with her thumb, sometimes pinching it lightly between her finger tips, and marvels at the way her lover tenses against her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to take it anymore, Elisanne takes Alex’s hand and moves it lower. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Touch me more,” she begs, placing it right below her hips and rocking them again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through her underwear, Alex can feel the warm, slick wetness that coats her palm and has to remind herself to keep breathing. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>She obliges, rubbing at Elly’s sensitive clit through her clothes, loving when she grinds with her whole weight, and the way she also reaches a hand down to sneak underneath Alex’s shorts. The both of them are too worked up for anymore foreplay, and Alex feels hotter than she’s ever been even though she’s nearly naked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elisanne slowly trails her hand lower, feeling almost burned by her temperature and her hot, wanting gaze. She brushes against the hair which makes Alex shiver in anticipation, reaching lower and lower until she finally reaches the wet heat of her—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—Someone bangs on the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elisanne! Are you in there?” Cleo’s voice yells from the other side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them scramble to their knees on instinct, though thankfully the door is locked (premeditation).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elly squeaks out the affirmative, and buries her face in her hands. “I forgot we had a meeting,” she groans, shifting her legs in shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me a few minutes and I’ll meet you there,” she calls out, doing her best to keep her voice steady after all their… activities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex helps her wipe down and put on new clothes, even doing her best to comb down her disheveled hair. The only thing they can’t cover up completely is her still slightly-reddened face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she goes, Elisanne places one last kiss against Alex’s ear, and whispers, “I’ll be back soon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sounds innocent enough, but then her teeth catch on the sensitive lobe. The words, “wait for me,” come as more of a command than a suggestion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Alex lies back on the bed, hugging one of the pillows (unfortunately, they no longer smell like her) for comfort, the phantom of Elly’s searing hands still caress her aching body, and the wetness between her legs makes her shift uncomfortably. She can barely even touch the bed sheets with her hypersensitive skin. As her heartbeat pounds between her ears even now, she blushes at the thought that Elly could hear it when she was still here, with the way they pressed up against each other, how their bodies fit together so perfectly.</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>She entertains the thought of another cold shower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elly may have taken her mind off heavier thoughts, but how was this sweet torture supposed to be relaxing...</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://twitter.com/flowerthief_art">Twitter</a> </p><p>Meow. Elly learned her flirting techniques from her novels.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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